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The inside of my body resembles a sieve. The biggest whole is buried deep beneath my aching soul. The rhythm of my heart seems to skip a beat with each breath that my lungs consume. As I stand at the front of the church entrance, I can feel the weight of my body shift from side to side.
"Quilted by Grandma,"
e-Vision Journal of Undergraduate Writing: Vol. 4
, Article 2.
Available at: http://commons.lib.jmu.edu/evision/vol4/iss1/2